


Yellow

by just_chaotic



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Big Brother Peter Parker, Bucky Barnes & Peter Parker Friendship, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fix It, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, Morgan Stark & Peter Parker Friendship, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter and Morgan are connected, Peter is a great big brother, Soul Stone, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Lives, Tony will forgive bucky someday, What I think happened after the snap, and Bucky and Morgan will be pals too, everyone is fam, it’s not written in this but just assume peter is bi and trans cause thats what he is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 22:10:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21106829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_chaotic/pseuds/just_chaotic
Summary: This is my imagine for what happened after the snap, and a possible scenario for what happened in the soul stone. I love Bucky Barnes and just had to throw him in even though he isn’t super essential to this story. Just assume that after the end, Tony forgives him and they work toward a functional friendship, Bucky and Peter and Morgan are all the best of friends, he introduces them to Shuri and the most mischievous trio of the twenty-first century is born, and it’s all Bucky’s fault.





	Yellow

Yellow

Floaty. That’s how Peter felt. It was strange, how peaceful it was. He had the nagging sensation that he was supposed to be... stressed? Perhaps tense was the better word. He couldn’t place it in his head, or make sense of the lack of... fear. He should be afraid. Instead, he’s lying peacefully on a hard, but not uncomfortable, surface. His sense of touch seems dulled. Although he can feel himself touching this ground or floor of some sort, he feels lighter. He can usually detect and scrutinize in detail the strain put on his skin by his own body weight. He’s been able to do that since the bite, but for the first time, it’s not annoying. He feels it, but it’s hardly noticeable unless he focuses fairly hard.

For the first time since Peter started thinking semi-consciously, he realizes his eyes are closed. He doesn’t honestly feel compelled to open them. Is he sleeping? Was he sleeping and now he’s awake? What was he even doing before he closed his eyes?

Not remembering something would normally send him headfirst into a whirlpool of anxiety. He would worry and fret, and trap himself in vicious cycles of overthinking, overwhelming himself, and if it got really bad, full blown anxiety attacks and sometimes sensory overload. 

None of this seemed pertinent at the moment. Some small part of his brain, hidden far inside, registered that this was weird. Why wasn’t he anxious? Of course, it’s something he has wanted for, well, forever. But to suddenly be free of it in an unknown location where he is less affected by gravity, lying eyes closed with no compulsion to open them, and without recent memories? Yeah, that’s too weird to be good. But Peter simply glossed over the notion, his consciousness flowing like gentle waves to erase the nudge toward any action or thought that would disrupt his peace. 

Peter does, however, reach out with his other senses. His hearing isn’t detecting anything at all. Not even his own breathing. Is he deaf? No. He can’t be deaf. Not that it really matters, anyway. Float on, next topic.

Smell. Again, nothing. And boy is that new. Living in New York, just about every minute of every day has enough smells to give him a migraine. He’s taken to putting a small dab of lavender oil under his nose. It’s strong for his senses, but overpowering enough that he doesn’t feel so grossed out by breathing. 

Huh. Memories. He lives in New York. He likes lavender. He hates peppermint, though. May had to get rid of that oil entirely from the little set of essential oils she got, because even tucked away in a drawer in her room, Peter was sickened by it. May Parker. Peter is remembering more and more, but it feels like his brain is detaching further from his body. Why is smell so sensitive for him? Why did he even start thinking about smells in the first place? That little nudge from deep in his brain makes itself known again. The peacefulness that has been washing over him like a calm pool of water is disappearing, gently. He isn’t being ripped from it, but instead, it’s as if the water is lowering around him. 

He feels less floaty now. Peter tried to call his brain back to his body, from where its been dissociating slightly. The moment his heart rate picks up, he knows he is coming back. He can feel his heart again. That means anxiety, though it still doesn’t seem as strong as usual. He finally feels a little inclined to open his eyes, and his return to a normal state of consciousness is confirmed when he recognizes the feeling of intense fear at this prospect. What will he see?

Yellow. The answer is yellow. Golden, blurred and shifting as if at sunset. Orangey hues are mixed in, and the- is that the sky? The sky, shimmers in some places. Smoothly, and beautifully, the light ebbs and flows.Then he looks down at his own body. 

He looks about 5 years old. 

Maybe he’s overestimating. He was a pretty tiny kid, so it’s hard to tell. But he has tiny legs, tiny arms, little hands and a set of corduroy overalls on that he knows he was wearing in a picture with Ben, May, and his parents on his fourth birthday. 

More memories. His parents. Ben Parker. 

Pushing aside the anxiety that does seem to be growing inside him, Peter lifts his head. He thinks he should sit up. Why is it so hard to take action on these inclinations? Opening his eyes took forever, or so it seemed. Slowly, he forces his limbs to cooperate. His body, brain, and unfortunately, anxiety, are all returning to a state that he feels more accustomed to. While he wouldn’t exactly call anxiety comforting, it is somewhat reassuring that he actually cares what is going on. Sitting up, he places his hand flat on the ground and lifts it straight up. 

Why isn’t it sticking? Why should it stick, though? What else is there for him to remember? The stress comes back even harder, only now it feels cramped. Like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, but his shoulders are smaller now, and not as strong as they should be. Why does he have that weight? What is he carrying? 

The thoughts build up, and the sensation of burning behind his eyes begins. The urge to cry is almost overwhelming, and he puts up no resistance. He doesn’t even know how he would. Peter simply cries, while he looks out upon the barren, clinically clean surface of this landscape and the golden reflections all around him. 

From behind him, a voice says, “Why are you crying?” Peter jumps and is so startled that in his haste to turn around and see the voice, he falls over a little bit. This does nothing to help his crying or the anxiety and vulnerability he feels right now.

“Why are you crying?” Through tears, Peter looks at the figure who spoke. She’s a child like him, maybe four or five years old. She has dark hair and eyes with light skin, she is missing one tooth, and her facial expression is so familiar that it makes his heart squeeze in his chest, though he can’t think of why.

Why is he crying? He has some memories but he doesn’t know where he is or why he is here, and where May is, and how he’s going to get back to her. He’s crying because- because...

“I’m... lost,” he says finally. His voice is young and small. The girl smiles at him then.

“Well, lets get you un-lost!” she responds brightly. She holds out a hand, and not seeing any logical alternative, Peter takes it. As she helps him up, his sense of smell alerts him to the faint scent of motor oil, mixed with the smells of dirt and lake. Something familiar and something new. His heart squeezed funny again.

Hand in hand, they start walking. Peter can’t see anything in any direction, but he assumes the girl knows where she is going.

“Are you sad?” she asks him after a few minutes of walking.

“I... was. I’m not right now. I think I’m scared.” Peter isn’t sure how to process these feelings. He feels out of sorts, like this isn’t the age he is supposed to be but that he doesn’t remember what that age is and how it should feel.

“There’s nothing to be scared of here,” she says. “Nothing ever is bad.”

“I’m scared because I don’t think I’m supposed to be here,” he replies.

“Is that why you’re lost?”

Peter just nods, and hums a little affirmation.

“Where’s your grown up?” the girl asks.

“My grown up?” Peter parrots. “Like aunt May? I don’t know where she is.” He wants to find her. He could really use one of her hugs right now. He remembers them, and they make him feel so safe. But this girl with him, she also is helping.

“My grown up has hair like me, and is much bigger than me,” she says. “His name is Bucky.”

“Bucky...” Peter trails off, memories sparked by the name but none coming to the front of his mind. Suddenly, even though seconds ago he was looking at nothing, a figure is visible in the distance. 

The girl sees him, and smiles brightly once again. “Bucky!” she cries, dropping Peter’s hand and running for him. All at once, so much of Peter’s fear rushes back in, as if the girl’s hand was physically keeping the fear at bay. Tears rising once more, he runs to keep up.

When he reaches the pair, Bucky has swooped the girl into a hug and settled her on his hip. Something feels wrong to Peter. The familiarity he felt from the girl isn’t here with this man. Somehow, Peter knows this is supposed to be someone else. 

But Bucky and the girl seem calm enough. Peter gets a look at Bucky. He has one arm, has long brown hair like the girl’s, and bright blue eyes. There’s some scruff on his chin that remind Peter of a whole bunch of people. Ben. His dad. And... 

Tony. Thats who he recognized in the girl. She reminds him of Tony. He remembers Tony. He feels like crying again, and he feels awkward, like he is intruding on the pair or bothering them. He closes his eyes, and wishes with all his might that he can get out of here and go back to... wherever it is he is supposed to be.

“Hey, bud. What’s your name?” a voice that must belong to Bucky breaks through the tears. Peter squints his eyes open, and see’s Bucky kneeling in front of him, Morgan at the side with his arm. 

“I’m Peter.” Something like understanding or epiphany crossed over Bucky’s face. 

“Peter... are you Spiderman?” Bucky asks. Spider-Man? Peter doesn’t know who that is. But it feels familiar. He thinks the answer is yes, even though he doesn’t really remember. He nods.

Bucky smiles at him. “Come on. Don’t be scared. We’ll figure out what’s going on, okay?” 

Peter just wants out. Bucky feels familiar, but only in passing. Like someone you’ve met, but didn’t bond with.

“Look, I know you’re scared. I know how you feel, okay?” He does? But he’s a grown up. This would all be less scary if Peter were a grown up, he thinks. “I have the same feelings. Something’s just not right, huh?” Peter nods. “I think that’s because we aren’t supposed to be here. Some people in this place have memories. Like you and me. And some of the ones with memories aren’t supposed to be here. We belong somewhere else. Does that make sense?” The concept as a whole was still confusing, but the feeling made sense. Peter felt like he was supposed to be somewhere else.

“I don’t really remember anything. Bucky thinks it’s cause I haven’t been born yet,” the little girl pipes up.

“Not... born yet? Wouldn’t that make you, a- a- a baby?” Peter thinks that he blushes when he stutters, but he can’t be sure. He remembers blushing a lot.

Bucky sits down, criss cross applesauce.

“Peter, can I touch you?” he asks, holding out a hand. Peter nods and takes it. Even though Bucky isn’t who he is supposed to be with, he feels safe.

Bucky pulls Peter into his lap and puts an arm around him. Morgan sits in front of them and leans on Peter, worming under Bucky’s arm. He chuckles, and for the first time since getting here and opening his eyes, Peter feels that same sense of calm from before. He feels a tear slip out, this time from overwhelming positive emotion, not fear.

“You’re right, normally that would make Morgan a baby,” Bucky says. So Morgan is the girls name. “But I’ve met a few people here. And some of them, I think are here because they’ve finished somewhere else. This is just the next place for them to be, and it’s the right place. Then, others like Morgan, I think they are waiting to go to that place, wherever it is. And then, folks like you ‘n’ me, we’re from that place, but we weren’t supposed to leave yet. I know that’s all big and scary to think about, but does it make sense?”

Peter considers this while he watches Bucky’s hand play with Morgan’s hair right above his tummy. He does feel like he wasn’t supposed to leave the other place. He had a job to do. He didn’t want to go...

“Mr. Bucky... did we die?” Peter asks, the thought suddenly occurring to him.

“Something like that, I’m afraid,” Bucky responds gently. “But I don’t think it’s gonna last. I got a man who ain’t here, and if I know him, I know he’ll figure out a way to fix this.” Peter was officially lost, but Bucky sounded confident and resolved.

“Why am I here, then, Bucky? I don’t remember another place.” Morgan has taken his hand from her hair and is playing with his fingers gently.

“I think you’re not born yet, doll. I think this place is where everyone goes when they aren’t somewhere for their life. So before they’re born and after they die, they’re here.”

Peter interrupted, “But why am I little? I don’t think I’m supposed to be. Everything here... feels wrong, but I can’t understand why. It’s like, I’m missing something and I’m supposed to be different,” he muses.

“You know what, bud, I don’t really know the answer. I’ve met some people who I think are like you, they’re supposed to be different sizes. But I think everyone here is meant to be the way they are for a reason.”

“What reason, Bucky? How come you aren’t little like us?” Morgan asks. 

“I think maybe... my... soul, it had some work to do that took a while. You guys were ready sooner,” he says cryptically, and Peter still feels confused. 

“How did you find each other?” Peter asks. 

“I found Bucky crying, just like you!” Morgan says. “He was sad and didn’t remember stuff just like you. But now he remembers everything and he still gets sad sometimes, but he’s my best friend here.” Morgan seems so find this all so simple, but Peter can feel Bucky tense momentarily.

“That’s right, doll. You... you help me know that things will be okay, even though I... well. You make me feel safe, squirt,” he finished with a tickle to her neck, and even Peter smiles as she giggles. Bucky sounds far off, like knowing that things will be okay means something different. Something outside this yellow place. Peter wishes he could remember everything like Bucky, but he is also afraid that if he did, he would be even more afraid. Feeling Bucky behind him, chest rising and falling as he breathes calmly, calms Peter. Bucky’s lone hand again moved to Morgan’s hair where she is leaned back against Peter. Peter feels safe.

“Will I remember everything, Bucky? Like you?” he asks nervously.

“Maybe. I’m not sure.” Peter is dissatisfied by this answer, but he knows it isn’t Bucky’s fault.

“I’m scared, Bucky. I want to know what things are s’posed to be different, like how big I am, but I’m afraid of knowing everything.” Peter’s voice has slipped into something smaller and younger. Bucky takes his arm and wraps it around Peter, giving him a hug. 

“How ‘bout we see if we can find other people who know more, huh, kiddo?”

“Yeah!” Morgan exclaims, sitting up and twisting around. “Like the doctor! He knows everything!”

Bucky frowns slightly. “Don’t let him hear you say that, his head is big enough as it is.” Peter didn’t really understand but he giggled nonetheless, along with Morgan. The trio stood up. Morgan moved to Peter’s left side, and she took his left hand. Bucky held out his own and Peter reached up to take it. They set off, again with nothing to be seen in the distance. But this time, Peter knew they would find something.

They walked for a long time, but Peter never got tired. There was no need to talk, so the journey passed in silence. Peter didn’t think Morgan would stay quiet this long, but apparently even she didn’t have things to say. Peter liked Morgan. Her presence made him feel like... he was at home. Wherever home is, or was. She made him feel memories, even if he couldn’t really remember them.

After what felt like hours but could have been minuted, a shape formed in the distance. Morgan got excited and ran forward again, yelling out “Doctor! Me and Bucky found someone!” Peter and Bucky approached at their normal speed, but Peter got nervous and stopped. Bucky stopped too, and knelt down.

“Hey, bud, everything’s okay. This is Dr. Strange, he’s a bit annoying, but he’s harmless. I think he’ll like you,” Bucky says, eyes twinkling with mischief. Peter doesn’t know why, but that makes him want to trust in what Bucky says. With surprising ease, Bucky scoops Peter up in his one arm and settled him on his hip. They walk up to where Morgan is sitting in Doctor Strange’s lap, eagerly recounting the whole day to him, beginning with her practicing her handstands and continuing on to finding Peter and then reuniting with Bucky. Strange looks exasperated, but Morgan takes no notice of this. When Bucky stops in front of them, Strange finally looks up at the pair of them and noticed Peter.

“Ah, so this is Peter. He’s much younger than when I met him.”

“He says he feels like he should be older,” Bucky confirms.

“Well, Peter,” Doctor Strange addresses him, “If I could make my best guess, I think we are in a place called the Soul Stone. And in here, I think souls exist at a time and age where they are most pure. You seemed about as pure as a puppy, an annoying one at that,” Bucky huffs as they listen and Morgan giggles. Strange continues his sentence, “-when I met you as a teen, but apparently you could be even more.... innocent,” he finishes with a smile.

“So why are we old farts then, Doctor?” Bucky asks with a smirk.

“Granted, I only know your story as far as the museums do, but I was a fairly selfish person from a young age. I still have issues of ego. It was only recently that I gained more... compassion, as one might say. Though I’m sure I have more work to do.” Strange seems a little defeated, as if he is disappointed that he isn’t yet perfect.

Peter leans on Bucky a bit closer. “What story does he mean Bucky? Do you know why you’re big?”

Bucky hums lowly, then speaks. “I think, I was probably pretty pure when I was real little, like you two,” he says, nodding in Peter and Morgan’s directions. “But then I grew up pretty normal, not quite innocent but definitely not evil or bad. Then something happened and people made me bad, even though I didn’t want to be. When I was mostly fixed, I still felt guilty. Like it was my fault. I think I’m as big as I am,” his voice is calming and his words are a little childlike for Peter and Morgan’s sake, “because this is how big I was when I started to forgive myself and move on.”

Peter feels his heart clench again, but this time from sadness. “You seem really good to me, Mr. Bucky,” he says. Bucky smiles and squeezes him. 

“Thanks, squirt. That makes me feel better.”

“Me too, Bucky! I think you’re good, too!” Morgan slides off Strange’s lap and somehow hits him in the stomach on her way. With an “Oof!” he releases her and she runs to hug Bucky around the waist. He sets Peter down and kneels into their dual embrace, looking up at Strange through their heads.

“Maybe we encounter certain souls for good reasons,” Strange offers with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, Doctor. Think Stark will suddenly forgive me if his little girl claims I’m her best friend from the Soul Stone?”

Stark. Tony. Soul Stone. More memories come flooding to Peter’s mind, and something in him shifts. He feels like, like, energy. Like energy that’s moving and growing and-

“Whoa,” Bucky says incredulously.

“Peter?” Morgan asks.

“There he is,” Doctor Strange says with a smile. 

Peter recognizes the feeling of his body, still hugging Bucky and Morgan who have both leaned to look at him. He’s bigger. Back to what he should be, he thinks. He’s also kneeling, like Bucky, to reach Morgan’s level. But, he doesn’t feel the normal heightened sensitivity. Wait. 

Peter breaks apart from the embrace. Quickly leaning to the ground, he places his hand on the smooth surface. Then pulls it straight up. Again, no stick. Again he tried. His powers are missing.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, Parker,” Strange says. “When the time comes, all will be as it should.”

A million questions, anxieties, and problems all occur to Peter at once, like an avalanche. “But what about Mr. Stark? What are we gonna do? Where did Thanos go? If this is the Soul Stone, how do we get out? We can’t fight him from here! Wait! Did Thanos win? He can’t have won. He can’t... no.” Peter is shaking his head, but Dr. Strange is only giving him a pitiful expression. It doesn’t look right on his face. Bucky is looking at the ground, still holding onto Morgan.

Wait. Motor oil. Stark’s little girl. 

“Morgan... Are you Mr. Stark’s daughter?”

“Who’s that?” She asks, and Peter’s face must fall visibly, because both Dr. Strange and Bucky speak up.

“She doesn’t have memories-“

“She isn’t born yet so she won’t-“

Morgan then starts to get scared and they both shut up. Bucky shushes her and runs his hand through her hair. Dr. Strange addresses Peter. 

“I don’t know all the intricacies of the Soul Stone and how it works. But I think Morgan is here in waiting. She will be born and thus doesn’t have memories to draw from. We on the other hand, I believe were sent by Thanos’  decimation. So we have our memories, of Stark for example, and the world we left. Bucky and I believe this is Tony’s daughter, only because of feelings. An inclination, which I’m sure you have also noticed,” he says, waiting for Peter’s affirmation.

“She... her being here, it feels like Mr. Stark. Like remembering him.”

“Exactly. Also she shares the more tolerable aspects of his personality,” he says with a small smile to Morgan. “Like being a genius, but not being a jerk about it.” Morgan sniffles and giggles quietly, perking up a bit.

“You feel like remembering, too, Peter,” she says to him.

“How would you know what that feels like, Doll?” Bucky asks her gently. “You don’t remember things from outside this place.”

“But Peter feels like I know him already,” she says, as if that explains everything. “Thats how I found him, was I felt it here,” she adds, pointing to her chest.

“Very interesting,” Strange murmurs.

“Well, that must make Pete here pretty special,” Bucky says with a wink. Peter still feels conflicted, though.

“But, Dr. Strange... aren’t we supposed to be helping? What are we doing here?”

“I think we are waiting,” he says.

“For what? And how long?”

“I don’t know. I feel as though I’ve been awake for a day or so, though I’ve had no need to sleep, so I’m not sure.”

“I think I’ve been up for about a day as well,” Bucky adds. “Morgan found me at the beginning, then we found Strange together, then we split off for a bit. I found some others, Sam and Shuri. Then Morgan found you and brought you to me.”

“It feels like just a few hours for me,” Peter says. “But what are we waiting for?”

Morgan interrupts, “Bucky, that tickles!” she says, overcome by laughter. Bucky smiles but is confused. 

“That’s not me doll... what’re you-“ his question cuts off, as light starts to bloom from Morgan’s chest. She continues laughing, and hold’s Bucky’s hand. He stares at her while the light spreads and eventually swallows her up. When the light fades, she’s no longer there.

“M- Morgan? Morgan!” Bucky stutters, panicking. 

“I think we are waiting for something like that,” Doctor Strange says. Peter seed what Bucky meant by annoying, as Strange clearly isn’t reading the mood. Bucky’s panicking and Strange sounds as if he couldn’t care less.

“Strange! What the hell?” Bucky is breathing heavy, and his hand is shaking.

“I think it was her time to enter the world,” Strange respond, a little kindness seeping into his voice this time.

“You mean Mr. Stark... and Pepper? They had a baby?” Peter asks, his whole heart clenching again, this time bittersweet. He liked Morgan’s presence here. But if Mr. Stark just had a baby, well, that made him so happy. Mr. Stark would be a fantastic dad. He kind of already was. 

“If my estimation is correct, then yes. She likely won’t remember this, but may feel a connection to us later on, if all goes as planned.”

“What do you mean, ‘as planned,’ Doctor?” Bucky asks. He is slightly calmed, but still looks nervous. 

“I don’t think we will have to wait long to see,” Strange muses. Peter is getting kind of annoyed by the whole pompous attitude of knowing everything but not explaining it. But his irritation subsides as a familiar feeling takes over. 

_ I don’t wanna go. Please, Mr. Stark, I don’t wanna go.  _

This is the memory he has. But now it feels like going is the correct thing to do. He looks down at his own hands, which start to morph into dust. Looks up at Bucky and Doctor Strange, who are in similar predicaments.

“See ya soon, Pete,” Bucky says with a wink.

“Peter, it’s time to go,” Strange says ominously. Then all Peter see’s is darkness, nothing. 

Suddenly, his eyes shoot open. He’s on the planet from before, where they fought Thanos. 

“Come on, Parker,” comes Strange’s voice from his left, where a portal is opening. “Stark needs us.” Peter gets to his feet, and they’re off.

~ Three Weeks Later ~

“Peter?” Pepper’s voice is gentle in his ear as she shakes his shoulder. Morgan is not quite so merciful.

“Peter! Wake up! May! Come on! Daddy’s awake, Daddy’s awake!” She jumps on him, narrowly missing his ribs in favor of his kidney. 

“Oof! Morgs, I’m up, come on,” he says as he scoops her up. He and Pepper both shake May’s shoulder a bit, which Peter had just been laying on. They’re in a small sitting room in the med wing of the compound. 

“May. He’s up,” Pepper says, smiling. Happy wakes from his spot beside May, and Pepper smiles at him. They both have a few stray tears already.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” May says with a yawn that is almost a gasp, brushing hair out of her mouth and face. Peter and Morgan laugh. 

The little family walks down the hall, and Peter’s heart pounds with every step. He must look nervous, because May squeezes his hand and Pepper gives him a reassuring smile. Happy pats his shoulder and Morgan puts both hands on his cheeks and squeezes, getting a laugh out of him.

“Let’s go see Daddy, Petey.” And that resolves it for him. His nerves melt, and he opens the door, him and Morgan leading followed closely by May and Pepper, who was the first person to talk to him before she came and got the others.

Peter just about collapses when he see’s Mr. Stark, sitting up, still bruised and bandaged, but with a smile on his face. If not for Morgan in his arms, he might have actually collapsed. 

“Hey, kiddos.”


End file.
